


The Rockkeeper

by pawstones



Category: Furry (Fandom)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Furry, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-19 23:57:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18981001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pawstones/pseuds/pawstones
Summary: After the capture of their father during an attack on their village, the young coyotes Chip and Mirk are responsible for the upkeep of the family shop. But what if their father is still out there somewhere?





	The Rockkeeper

The young coyote bounced around his shop, making sure everything was in order. It was near closing time. He checked the register, took a retally of his stock, dusted the shelves, swept the floors, and rearranged the merchandise - his stones. He had a wide variety of rocks. All colors, sizes, textures… if someone needed a rock, his store was the place to go for it.

The rocks were collected by his younger brother, Chip. Chip had a knack for searching out the best stones. He would then bring them in large baskets eagerly to his older brother, Mirk, who would polish them and make them ready for the shelves. Chip, still just barely older than a puppy, was quick at learning the business, and was always there to serve a helping hand. While staring at the stones in awe when he was supposed to be working was always one of his flaws, he got the job done without groaning, most of the time.

The shop used to belong to their father, Seenth. And before that it belonged to his father, and his father, and his father, for as long back as the family had lived in the town of Markdek. Markdek was a town of trades, from stones to metals to woods to arts. It seemed as if the shopkeepers and their families had never lived anywhere else. No one living there currently knew of living in any other town, and it was rare that a tourist would come and decide to stay.

Seenth was a relatively young coyote when it was time for him to pass down the shop. As peaceful as Markdek is, pacifism doesn’t mean that one won’t be attacked. Donning his sword, donated courteously from the neighbor Aark at the blacksmith, he charged into the crowd of assailants, ordering his sons to hide behind the counter and protect the shop at all costs. Mirk, huddled over his brother, was able to keep it together on the outside for Chip, but on the inside he was crying like a puppy. He was old enough and well enough to attack, to defend his father, but he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Chip alone. Protecting him from the chaos that roared outside, Mirk awaited the return of his father.

The screams continued for hours. Calls to attack, gunfire ringing in the trees, howls and hisses and groans as neighbors and sisters and sons and friends fell. Stomping footsteps going past the door without stopping. Weeping family members emerging from their houses to collect their injured and dead, then reemerging to help neighbors collect theirs. Stay behind the counter. Protect the shop at all costs. I will return soon.

“Brother, I’m hungry.” By the end of the next evening, Chip was weak, emotionally and physically. His request came out no louder than a whisper.

Mirk rose slowly to his feet, holding onto the counter for support. “Alright, come on, upstairs now, I’ll fix you something for dinner.”

Now, looking out through the display window, it all came back to him. They never did find Seenth. Not only did he not come back as promised, but when Mirk went out to look for him the following morning no sign of him was uncovered. Save for his sword, stuck stiffly into the side of a wooden wall. No blood near it, no fabric torn, no claw marks in the wood or the ground, just his father’s sword. He pulled it out and carried it home carefully. Once he emerged through the door, he didn’t have to say anything to Chip. They cried.

“Mirk! Mirk!” He jerked back to attention, the bell on the door ringing loudly as Chip barreled in. He had a full basket of stones, most of them likely pulled from the nearby stream considering their smoothness. “Check out this one!” He reached a paw in and dug around for a bit, then pulled out a very small gem-like rock. It sparkled like a diamond in the candlelight of the room. “I think I found the treasure of Anubis!”

Mirk laughed, “That’s no treasure of Anubis, bud, that’s just a piece of quartz.”

Chip wasn’t listening. He tucked it into his shirt pocket and shook his basket with glee. “I’m going to be a rich coyote! I found the treasure of Anubis!” He then ran upstairs to the apartment above, likely about to tell one of his stuffed animals about his treasure. Mirk followed slowly, making sure that all of the doors and windows were locked and the candles snuffed out.

“I pulled it straight from the jaws of the fiercest manokit you’ve ever seen!” Chip’s voice was distant - he was yelling in his bedroom. “It had big teeth - like this! - and huge paws - like this!”

Mirk laughed and proceeded to the kitchen, preparing some soup for him and Chip. Not particularly either of their favorites, but it was palatable enough. Filling too. After it was heated up, he poured two bowls and howled for his brother. They sat across from one another at the dining room table, next to the large windows that overlooked the center of the town.

“I put the basket in your room, next to your cleaning stuff.” Chip spoke with his mouth full, as usual. Mirk had stopped trying to teach him table manners after so many failed attempts.

“Thanks little guy.” As usual, Mirk was brief at the dinner table. He liked to eat his food, not talk through it.

Chip, however, was quite the opposite. To him, small talk was better than silence. “Do you like chicken noodle?”

“Yes, Chip.”

He paused, trying to find something to discuss. “I was wondering if I could start a little farm. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? Then we could grow our own food and put the money we’d spend on soup cans into something else, like, oh, I don’t know, heaters maybe! Or a new rug for my room! Or-”

“Chip, our trade is rock collecting. Let the farmers farm the food that we need. This village exists in a delicate balance. If there were too many farmers, there would be too much food, and then it would rot and the soil would go to waste trying to support the extra crops. And if there weren’t enough rock collectors, what would people decorate their houses with? What would people make decorative fences out of? You can’t replace rocks with crops, and you can’t replace crops with rocks.”

Chip looked down at his soup, stirring slowly. He was crestfallen. “I know, I just thought it might be fun growing something.”

Mirk put his own head down. He didn’t like making his brother sad, but he didn’t want to sugar coat the world for him either. He needed to be prepared to be let down. To be suddenly alone. God forbid, but if anything happens to me, he needs to know how to handle himself in this world alone. He can’t let hobbies and wishes distract him from what the community needs him for.

He watched his brother eat slowly, his hunger seeming to fade quickly. Sick of the tension, Mirk patted his shoulder. “Maybe, uh, maybe flowers instead. I’ll go into town tomorrow and get you a little pot. But just because you have flowers to tend to doesn’t mean that you can skimp out on your rock collecting quota.”

The largest smile came over the pup’s face. He put his hands on the table and picked himself up, exclaiming, “Of course!! Could I grow cosmos? I love cosmos. I love them because they’re the only ones I can draw well. Did you see my drawing in art class? I put it on the fridge. Those are cosmos. Have you ever seen one? They don’t smell like much but I love them because I can draw them.” His tail wagged quickly, his excitement fueled by his brother’s interest in his hobby.

Mirk stood up laughing, lifting his energetic brother over his shoulder. He patted his back. “I’ll get you every seed for the cosmos that I can find, little man. And I’ll even get you some more crayons and have you draw some more cosmos for me.”

As he carried Chip to his room to tuck him in for the night, the pup squealed in delight. Not just from being in the air, but also from the validation. Play wrestling him down onto the bed, Mirk touched his nose to his brother’s before flicking off his main light and turning on his star lamp. “Good night, little man.”

“Good night, Mirk.”

\---

“Jesus fucking Christ, fuck overhead!”

By nine in the morning, the village was already bustling. Mirk had closed the shop for the day in order to spend the morning with Chip before going to church. Turning to the yell, Mirk nodded to the mountain lions working in a garage. Metal workers. What exactly they were working on, however, Mirk couldn’t guess if he had a thousand chances to. “Good morning, men.”

The older one, starting to gray, turned to him with a friendly nod. “Hey, it’s Seenth’s oldest boy! Where are you two off to so early on a Sunday?”

 

He shook Chip gently on his shoulders. “Taking the little man to get some crayons.”

“Ah, what a talented boy. You have fun now!”

Walking along, Mirk could hear the excited giggles coming from Chip every now and then. On occasion, he would stick his arms out straight to the sides and exclaim, “Look everyone, I’m flying! I have the power of Anubis’s treasure!!” In his pocket, unchanged from the day prior, was the quartz he found in the river. Those passing by would smile up at him, some waving, others telling him that he was an excellent pilot. Mirk loved that the community was so warm to his brother. They all seemed to take the place of their father.

They walked into the store of the nearest artist. They heard a spinning pottery wheel from somewhere in the back of the store, but it quickly came to a stop once the bell on the entrance door sounded. “One second!”

A sergal rushed out from the back room, his reddish white coloring shining in the light of the morning that poured in from the windows. “Ah, it is you two! What brings ze finest men in town into my store?”

Chip was lowered down gently, and he quickly darted off to where he already knew the art supplies to be. Mirk, making sure to keep an eye on his brother, answered, “He’s looking for some new crayons, and perhaps a new sketchbook to match.”

The sergal’s eyes lit up. “I have just ze ting for him!” He turned in the direction Chip ran off in. “Oh little sir! Wait for me little sir!”

Mirk laughed a bit as the man ran off, and once he was gone he redirected his attention to a shelf of pottery. There were many different types of pots - vase-like, bowl-like, plate-like, glass-like, and some that had an interesting enough shape but didn’t seem to be useful for anything. They were all painted differently. Some merely held a finish, while others were painted intricately to honor the ancestors or a specific trade. He picked up a bowl-like pot with an image of two canines on the side, working on smoothing rocks. He smiled.

Just as he was about to go look for the shopkeeper and his brother, they came back in excitedly. Chip held in his paws a bamboo sketchbook and a pack of 50 crayons. The sergal smiled at Mirk and said, “It is all taken care of. ‘Ave a good day!”

“No, sir, I should pay for that, and this pot as well.” He smiled more on the account that, in the corner of his eye, Chip was smiling at the canines on the pot.

“Oh, you would like zat? It is yours. It has been up zere collecting dust for many many months.”

“I would be hurting your business if I did not pay for your wares, and I cannot do that to a fellow man of business. Please, it’s not much-”

“Precisely! It is not much. Zerefore, zere is not’ing wrong with you taking it.”

Mirk looked down at the merchandise in his and Chip’s paws. It was no more than 20 gold for everything altogether. They weren’t rich, but they could afford 20 gold. “Really, sir, I would feel bad if I-”

“Zere is not’ing to feel bad about, sir. Take your pot and art and let your boy enjoy it.” He turned away with a smile, returning back to his pottery wheel.

Mirk turned slowly, reluctantly walking to the door. Holding the door for Chip, he took a quick moment to put the 20 gold under a nearby pot. “Mirk, why are you leaving that?”

“The man does honest work. He has no reason to refuse payment.”

“We could use that for our soup, though.”

“We have plenty at home. He needs the gold more than we do.” Only half a lie. “Besides, if he keeps running his business like that - giving away his merchandise as gifts - he’ll be bankrupt within a year. I can’t let that happen to him.”

Chip smiled. “Did he think I was your son?”

Mirk laughed, putting a paw on his shoulder to lead him in the direction of the church. “Well, can you blame him? You’re short enough to be my son.”

“Hey! I’m not short!”

Upon entering the church, Mirk felt immediately at home. His father had always taken them here. Every Sunday morning, 10 AM sharp, in all types of weather, in every season, even if they were running a fever. The Ancestors need to speak with you, son. Up now, up.

The church was made of finely polished stone. It had a high ceiling that was covered in stained glass. Beautiful blues, oranges, and purples filled the room with soft light. The pastor, and old cat named Father Marsik, stood at the front of the room. He was a man with a diaphanous white cloak draping over his short salt-and-pepper fur. He stood on a raised podium, smiling down as townspeople filed into the pews. Mirk could name every person in that room if someone asked. They were all regular attendants, and almost everyone in the town showed up.

The service began promptly, just as it did every Sunday at ten. Father Marsik greeted everyone first. Then he would greet the Ancestors by lighting candles - one for each species known to be living in the town - and leading a short welcoming prayer. Sometimes, he would invite a child to come and help him light the candles, and this morning Chip was welcomed up to light the flames. The first candle was lighted with a match, and those following were lighted using the first candle. Father Marsik announced, as he always did, “This ceremony represents our unity.” While he spoke, Chip’s paws shook with anxiety. “We may all come from different walks or towns or species, but we all share Ancestors in the stars and this town on Earth.”

After the candles were lit, Chip returned to his seat. Father Marsik would, with some of the other church members, pass out a piece of bread with butter and a cup of milk to each attendee. Children got chocolate milk if they asked nicely for it. The bread was always fluffy, the butter spread easily, and the milk was cool and refreshing. It wasn’t part of the religion to feast before prayer, but Father Marsik wanted to make sure no one in his church went hungry. Just in case if anyone needed it, each night from five to six the church was open for more bread and milk. Even those that didn’t believe in the same faith were welcome to come and dine.

Once everyone was finished dining, Father Marsik would lead a longer prayer. They would all collectively ask the Ancestors for guidance and prosperity in their homes and businesses. Some would ask for fish in the rivers, others ores in the mines, others still young saplings in the forest. Those not involved in business would ask for a healthy new litter in the spring, or extra gold in the family’s paws to put food on the table and sweaters on their young. Mirk asked for his father’s return, just as he had each week since he went missing. Chip asked for something similar, but would sometimes also tack on a request for a new toy or for his favorite pastry - chocolate cake. Lately, the Ancestors seemed to be favoring the requests of Chip over Mirk. Then again, cake was easier to bring their way than Seenth.

After the longer prayer was over, the church would fall silent. The animals would speak personally to the Ancestors. If someone finished earlier than the others, they were welcome to leave, but they must do so silently so that those in prayer were not disturbed. The doors were propped open to make entering and exiting silently easier, and also to let in a refreshing breeze. 

Mirk would sit silently with his eyes closed, muzzle in his paws, and wait. One always had to wait for the Ancestors to come. A specific one would not come at your request. Typically, one would serve as an exponent for the others. However, on a special occasion - perhaps close to one’s birthday or after the death of a family member - more than one would be visible. If there were others in the family praying at the moment, they would not speak to the same Ancestor, as that one is busy with the other family member at the moment. Mirk usually saw his mother, Flèse. She was an especially elegant coyote, her peculiar blue-white fur making her moss-green eyes stand out. She died very shortly after Chip was born, when he was seven. A mere eight years before Seenth disappeared, which was five years before that day. She traded for a living. One day while out on a trading path, one she was familiar with, her cart was attacked. Her trading partner, a young red fox named Perch, was able to defeat the three attackers with his pistol, but not before they were able to claim all of their merchandise and his mother’s life. Perch was able to repair the cart enough to get it back into town. Flèse was given an honorable burial on the hillside, her grave decorated with lilies and stones from the shop, and the bodies of the three assailants were burned in the middle of the city. Mirk and Seenth threw the first two matches (Chip, being an infant, was too young to throw a match, and was instead held in Seenth’s arms), and the rest of the town cursed the bodies and contributed their own matches and drops of gasoline to the conflagration. Flèse was loved by all, and she wasn’t going to be let go so soon without revenge.

His mother was not a talkative spirit. Most of the time, she would sit and smile with him, listening to him intently. If she were to communicate, it would be through nodding, shaking, smiling, or frowning. She very rarely spoke words, and if she did then it was because she had a vital message to deliver. Today was no different. Her starred figure slowly came into view, wearing her usual soft smile. She sat on the floor, her legs crossed. She looked young, perhaps around his age. All spirits do that once they die - their appearance reverts to how it appeared when they were the most beautiful or handsome in their life.

He sat down in the same manner as her shortly in front of her, the same soft smile on his face. People always told him that he shared his mother’s smile, and for a time after she died he couldn’t look in the mirror because he couldn’t bear seeing her in himself. Now, though, he was proud to share a piece of his mother. “Hello, Mom.”

She smiled and blinked slowly at him. He returned it. A tacit greeting, a tacit “I love you.”

“Chip is into gardening. Should I encourage it? I want him to focus on the stones.”

She nodded.

“It’s a good thing that I bought him his pot then. He likes the cosmos.” He laughed. “He can draw them.”

She laughed quietly, her eyes sparkling.

“Did you ever garden, Mom?”

She nodded and raised a finger.

“What did you grow?”

She winked. He assumed she was referring to the cosmos. To clarify, he asked, “Could you draw them?” She nodded.

“He’ll be happy to hear that he’s doing something you once did.”

She hummed in agreement.

He sat in silence for a moment, savoring the feeling of being with his mother. He began to weep quietly. “I miss you.”

She put a paw on his cheek and rubbed it slowly, reassuring him. She extended her arms to draw him into a hug, and pulled him in tightly against her. Tears began to roll down his cheeks and onto her translucent form. “He’s alright.”

Hearing her voice shocked him. “Who?”

“Your father. He is not with me.”

“Where is he?”

“North. Sandy beach. Cave. Prisoner of war. They think he has information. They hit him.”

He shuddered in her arms. “How should I get to him?”

“I must go.”

“No! Please! I need to know!”

“There are some things you need to learn for yourself, my boy.” Her figure started to fade despite how tightly he held onto her. “I love you. Bring Chip. Have neighbors guard the store. Return. Protect Chip. Protect Chip. Protectchipprotectchipprotectchipprotectchipprotectchip-”

She disappeared from in between his arms. He fell onto the ground of the abyss and buried his face in his paws. He was overcome with a crippling loneliness, mixed with an immense fear.

His eyes opened. The pew was growing uncomfortable on his tail. Chip was sitting next to him with a smile on his face, shaking the seeds quietly in the package they were purchased in. The church had already cleared out. Father Marsik was at the front of the room, extinguishing the candles. Chip looked over at Mirk was a smile. “Who’d you talk to, brother?”

“M-Mom.” He was still recovering from his vision. “What about you?”

 

“I spoke to Grandma!” Most likely referring to Flèse’s mother, considering that we’ve never met Seenth’s parents in person. They lived far away, in a mystical land of Canada. Mirk had no clue where it was, but it was nowhere near their island country. They never visited.

“That’s cool, man. What’d she say?”

“She said she liked my cosmos. She can’t wait to see them grow. What did Mom say?”

“She, uh, said she liked that you started gardening. She grew cosmos too. She could draw them as well.”

The biggest smile crossed over his face. He jumped to his feet, picked up his possessions, and started to pull on Mirk’s paw. “Come on! I wanna go home so I can set up my cosmos on the dinner table! They need sun and water and dirt! I wanna show Mom and Grandma that I can be a great gardener like them!”


End file.
